I would give anything to take y'all back in time with me to experience Christmas in the poor house. You will need to play along and imagine here. The smells of Washington Delicious apples, Lake Wells oranges, Mama's traditional Christmas cake frosted with icing made with apple chunks and orange slices stewed down in sugar with the peelings still on. Vanilla and egg whites cooked until the frosting was thickened to a smooth concoction.
Lort!
Our breakfast table was laden with a platters of fried yard eggs, ham, bacon and sausage patties and links, stone ground grits from our own corn, biscuits, redeye gravy and homemade syrup. That was a daily occurrence at our table, but this being Christmas Eve made the meal really special. The energy level in our house was almost to the point of being disabling. The baby would crawl under the table to reach up and hold on to the table leg while sucking a slobbery thumb. The cat would catch a break to scat from the back steps when the door was opened and run underneath a bed to hide from us. We broomed against her, trying to run her out of the house as her eyes glowed like LED lights. She showed us teeth and gave us scratches as we dragged her outside while she clawed and drew blood. Fun!
On Christmas Eve Daddy put us out to the woodpile to lay in enough for the woodbox to last the next few days; because he knew it would be almost impossible to draw us off from our toy after Christmas morning. Christmas Eve saw wood hauling at its finest. We knew something wonderful was coming, but had no control in the handling of nerves it caused.
Noontime meal was usually a pot of frost nipped collards, sweet potatoes, cornbread and slices of the fresh ham Mama had boiled for Christmas day. Big difference between a smoked ham and a fresh ham. Mama used the broth from the boiled ham to cook rice which would have made a Chinese hold a grudge. God knows how to bless the lowly.
Christmas Eve afternoon caused misbehavior. Misbehavior caused issues with gall berry switches. Feelings were hurt and naps were taken to ease the trauma for Mama and Daddy. Usually I hid out between the bed and the wall ("stay off the bed Earline") to read my book (Black Beauty) that I got from the one who drew my name at school. Or just lay and listened to the old Philco as Gene Autrey sang, "Here Comes Santa Claus." Time was dragging.
Nighttime found us gathered around the fireplace watching the embers; watching the Christmas tree sparkle as the air moved the icicles that reflected the firelight. Gene Autrey was still crooning in between that man that talked about how Daddy should buy insurance in case one of us broke a bone. National Life and Accident Insurance Company. We all knew insurance was for people that had money. If we broke something Daddy would sell a hog or cow. Poor people had figured things out way before insurance was in vogue. Mama and Daddy would tell us about how skinny Santa Claus' bag was back in their childhood. That was funny.
The night dragged until the bluish of dawn…
Loud hollering and tearing of paper.
"Oh look, she has real hair."
"No, just some bangs under her bonnet."
"Come on, lets shoot the hoop."
"Mama, make him go outside to pop them caps."
Breakfast was gobbled, Mama was deep into Christmas dinner, Daddy was loving on Prince Albert and gazing into the fire. About 9 o'clock we younger ones would walk over to Uncle Arliss' to see what Santa had brought for Barbara Ann. An only child was blessed with more than one toy. Then on down the fence trail to see what Helen got. Another only child and being raised by her grandparents. That was like being a Trust Fund baby. Jackpot!
Our Christmas Day was filled with noise and nerves and fights and all the most delicious cooking in the world. We had permission to eat all the candy and fruit and nuts we could hold. We ate, we suffered. God loved on us. The days following were for dealing with the excess of good and plenty.
Our brothers had run out of caps for those pistols, broken the wagon axel, or flattened the basketball, or stuffed the new baseball with socks. Us girls had caused meltdowns on sharing time with dolls and coloring books. Coloring books got depleted and pages got torn, dolls had missing shoes and arms from tugging. Jump ropes had lost a handle. Somebody had left jacks scattered that caused screaming fits. A King was missing from checkers. Pickup sticks were broken. Ugh!
Fights broke out, tails and legs got switchings. The baby cried LOUD from crawling on scattered walnut shells. The dog chased the cats from pure boredom. The wood box emptied. Daddy issue warnings against that problem. Mama needed relief from it all. Poor Mama, Poor Daddy. The days away from school had to be lived with grit or gore. It was a wonderful life we were blessed to live.
You had to be there.
Merry Christmas & Happy New Year Y'all!
You can check out Earline’s blog and buy a copy of her first book “Life With the Top Down” at: http://www.earlinesdoins.com.
